Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1887-05-12
THE LETTER.

uAnv letters?r asked the Widow
Wadsworth, turning from the grocery
counter of the ''stOren of Kornhill to
the corner by the window over which
swung a placard bearing the legend
post Office" upon it, and glancing
through her spectacles at the small row
of candy jars which were made to do
duty as letter holders. "Any letters for
our house, Mr.. Bristol?"
Mr.. Bristol, the senior of that name
who was too rheumatic to weigh gro
ceries or measure calico, was as deaf as
a post, had perhaps the least natural
talent for the reading of dubious script
that could be found in the person of
any living mar; and, besides this, could
never find his pectacles--roused him.
self from nap in which he had been
lindulging, looked bewildered, and
seemed for q moment dubious as to
what he should do next; but seeing that
Mrs. Wadsworth's eyes were fixed upon
the candy jars, decided that she wanted
letter, and, reaching up, slowly took
two of them down and, with much de-
liberation, spread them before her like
pack ofcards.
''pve put my specks some'rs," he
said, "but where 1 dunno. Look 'em
over and sort out what's yourn, Mrs.
Wadsworth."
This was old Mr.. Bristol's usual style
of perforforming the business ofpost-
master. And as it was an honest place,
little harm came of it. Often people
carried their neighborsl letters to them
when they happened to pass their gates,
8, and the only registered letter that ever
vet has been sent to Kornhill was con-
= sidered an insult to the community at
large.
HThey might ha' known no one
would ha' meddled with it, said the
postmaster.
And the farmers talked the matter
over as they logged home side by side
tt in their wagons, and the summer board
a er who did the strange thing was made
. to feel the Indignation of her hostess
!" But that was long after the evening on
N. which Mrs. Wadsworth asked if there
were any letters for cher house."
Peering over the little row spread be
fore her, she saw that there was one;
f'' small envelope-addressed in delicate
lady's hand to "James Wadsworth
= es9;;rr 1, oo;, ,o IA ,oax
"Who could have writ to him?
single epistle in her pocket, pushed th'
rest toward Mr.. Bristol and nodded t.
him. Mr.. Bristol nodded in reply, re
stool and went to sleep again. TIL
younger Bristol helped the old lady in
to her wagon, handed in her basket @
groceries, and she drove away, with tn
letter in her pocket, and queer feeling
half fear and half anger, at her heart a
she said over and over again, talkin
aloud to herself, as the old white hors
plodded along the lonely road.
"Who has writ to Jim, wonder?"
Maggie, the "help," came out to carr
in the basket, when Mrs. Wadswort
. stopped at her own gate, and she hel
self walked into the kitchen. The1
was great stove there and on it th
kettle was boiling. steam rushing frol
: its spout in one long stream, and creel
, ing in fiat sheet from under the cove
Before this stove Mrs. Wadsworth stoo
and warmed her hands.
II wonder who has writ to Jim," sl
said. "If thought it was that girl Z
throw it into the fire."
Then story she had heard of SON
one who had feloniously opened an ell
! velope by holding it over the steam of
tea Kettle occurred to her mind.
II wonder whether it would ope
that way" she said. "It couldn't
any great harm just to satisfy myse
that it isn't from her. Jim is but bo
and I am his mother. / guess, a
cording to law, I'd have right.
: ought to, anyhow"
Then the hand which held the lett
te out-stretched itself. The stream
: steam beat against the flap of the e
4 velope. In moment or so, it hur
B. loose and limp and wet in her hands.
:; "I'll go and put my bonnet away
d she said, in an unnatural sort of ton
u. and hurried up stairs.
g. ~ am his mother" she said again,
n. she sat down in her rocking chair al
u drew the letter from the envelope. II
| right should know"
Then she cast her eyes over" the wr
ing. There was not much of it. ia
y: this:
= DEAR JAMEs:-I know, after n
conduct; it Is my place to write first.
was naughty. Please forgive me. Isr
that humble enough? And if you d
: come and take me to the picnic t
h morrow.
;. s'Youro own NELLY. y
.. ''It is from that girl" said MI
Wadsworth. "It's from her. Al
things have gone so far, and he hash
" told his mother word!-Oh, how ha
- it is to bear! That girl don't wa
Jim to marry; but ofall girls, that one
and she rocked herself to and fro.
= "There's been q quarrel" she said
last, "and she's written this to NAL
up. If he never got it, he'd new
speak. I know his pride. She con
Of poor lot. hate her; she's a bs
wife for Jim. think it's my duty II
a5 to give tito him. I'll think it over
Then she opened the drawer of b
bureau in which she kept valuables al
money and thrust the letter In al
locked itup.!r F,gr,al
She had time to. think the matt
over before Jim came in, for he was lat
JanA Othaf III ~ ry.t sef fafsx